Reconciliation
by ntertanedangel
Summary: H/G one-shot. My vision of Harry and Ginny's first meeting after the Battle of Hogwarts.


My footsteps sounded unnaturally loud as they echoed through the empty corridors

My footsteps sounded unnaturally loud as they echoed through the empty corridors. I concentrated on not tripping over rubble, not even paying attention to where I was going, not allowing my mind any room for other thoughts. I had excused myself from the Great Hall by saying I needed the bathroom, which was true, but it seemed my feet had different plans.

The Fat Lady swung open at my approach before I had a chance to explain that I didn't know the password, and I scrambled in the hole before stopping in shock. Gryffindor Tower alone seemed to have been untouched by battle. Everything was as I had last seen it- even the fire smoldering in the grate was the same. It didn't seem right, somehow, like a façade, that this place that was such a part of me should be free from the damage that the rest of me felt. Picking my way around the armchairs, I paused at the foot of the stairs; my foot was raised and I had been about to go up to the boys' dormitories, and in a rush I knew why I had come here, though I had not consciously acknowledged it. I wanted to see him, and I knew he would be here. I had known as soon as Ron and Hermione had come back to the Great Hall without him, and now that I thought about it, that had been the same moment my bladder had started complaining.

_No,_ I thought. _You can't just barge into his dorm- he'll be sleeping and you shouldn't wake him. You don't want to give him the wrong impression anyway, and even if you did, you should at least clean yourself up first._ I _was_ pretty filthy. I turned and went up to the girls' dormitories instead.

I didn't have anything clean to change into, but there were plenty of robes scattered across the floor as relics of the sudden exodus of students several hours before. I scooped one up and headed to the showers.

The burst of hot water smarted against my many cuts and bruises, and I nearly cried out in pain. I clenched my teeth and tried to rub out the dirt from a rather nasty cut on my shoulder, but tears of pain sprung to my eyes and I couldn't continue. All of a sudden it hit me and I fell to the shower floor, tears mingling with the shower water now cascading over my back: the absolute senselessness of the war, the loss of Fred, who smiled even in death, Lupin and Tonks, who had just found everything only to have it snatched away, and the pent-up fear that I had pushed away and ignored only to have it explode in me now. Fear of not knowing, fear that I _would_ know, fear of acknowledging to myself who I wanted home more: my brother or my ex, and the pounding, suffocating fear that the echoing voice was _not_ lying, and that hope really was lost. Everyone's hope, but mine most of all.

But he was _here_: he was turning off the water and wrapping me in a towel and whispering my name. I wasn't entirely sure he was real, but I was more than willing to pretend. I clung to him and cried into his shoulder and was not surprised to find him doing the same. How long we stood there I'm not sure, but I gradually became more aware of my surroundings. His hair was longer and he needed a shave, but judging by his fresh smell he had also just bathed. It seemed I had grown since his birthday (oh, that birthday…) because my head now fit comfortably on his shoulder when before I had leaned it against his chest.

I also became aware that we were both speaking. He was repeating "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" into my hair and as soon as I registered what was coming out of my own mouth it suddenly became much stronger: "I hate you." I tried to push myself away, but he held me close, so I started pounding his front with my fists. I heard him hiss in pain when I hit over his heart, but I didn't care. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! HOW COULD YOU, HARRY? WHY..." but he began kissing my neck and I couldn't continue. It was all I could do to choke out, "You didn't say goodbye."

Without a word, he picked up the robe I had commandeered and pulled it over my head. I stepped back from him, shaking with suppressed emotions, and let the towel drop underneath the robe. His eyes fixed on it pooled around my feet and his voice was hoarse when he spoke. "You have every right to hate me. Merlin, I hate myself. I never meant for things to happen like they did, and if I had had a chance to say goodbye you know I would have. But," he looked up and I felt the air leave my lungs as I saw the intensity in his bright green eyes, "when you know you're going to have to give everything, its easier if you have less to give." He stepped forward with his hands out, entreating me. "I have never wanted anything more than to just forget all about Voldemort and live a normal life with my friends and my girlfriend." He was whispering now, and his thumb traced the line of my jaw. "My family. But that's exactly why I had to let it go. I'm sorry."

I hated it. I hated him apologizing, and I knew he'd keep on apologizing if I didn't stop him. So I did. I kissed him. He stiffened in surprise at first, but he soon relaxed into it and circled an arm around my back and into my still dripping hair. I poured everything into that kiss: my anger and my desire and my love. He was simply open: allowing himself to be the vessel into which I poured myself, but also demonstrating that he had missed me too. We wound up on a bed, facing each other but simply breathing each other in.

I wanted to say something, but nothing seemed appropriate, and I had so many questions to ask, so I settled on what was perhaps the least appropriate of all. "How'd you get here?"

"What?"

"The stairs- they're charmed to keep out boys. How'd you get up?"

"Oh… I'm not sure. I heard you crying and just ran up. Maybe they only work on underage wizards? Surely Dumbledore or Filch has to get in here sometime."

"Urgh…" The thought of Filch in my dormitory was even worse than hormonal teenage boys. He chuckled deep in his throat and kissed my forehead. There was still so much to say, but even as I opened my mouth to say it his eyelids fluttered in exhaustion and he rolled on to his back.

"Harry?" I whispered.

"Mmm?"

"Will you be here when I wake up?"

He opened his eyes and turned to stare into mine. "Always."

A/N: I wrote this right after finishing DH, and it's just been sitting on my computer since then. I'm not too sure about it, but I decided it's not going to get much better, so I decided to post it. I hope it's different enough from all the other reconciliation scenes out there to be interesting to you. Please review

JKR is the master, not me

EDIT: I recently realized that my ending is rather similar to a line in "The Good Sleep Better" by honeywheeler (honey-wheeler./51081.html). I was not thinking of that fic when I wrote this one, but there may well have been some influence. Anywhoo, you should all check out that story, because it is very well done 


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